


The Devil You Know

by old_blue



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Boys Kissing, Demonic Possession, Dirty Talk, Excessive Halloween Imagery, Fluff and Humor, Frottage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance, Tony Stark Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_blue/pseuds/old_blue
Summary: On the most boring Halloween Night ever, Tony Stark gets a very strange call. And, maybe, a Halloween treat.





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Rated E for explicit dirty talk, frottage, and really bad jokes.
> 
> Written for the Ironstrange Advent Calendar on Tumblr
> 
> Based on this prompt (which I'm paraphrasing): "Demon-possessed Strange flirts relentlessly with Tony Stark. Tony is into it."
> 
> Many thanks (and Halloween treats) to my amazing and super quick betas, merelypassingtime and Grandeur_Raconteur. You two are awesome and I love you forever!

"Boss, incoming call from Doctor Strange."

Tony blinks and slides his feet off the desk in front of him, sits up straight in his chair. _What the hell?_ He can't remember ever getting an actual phone call from Strange before. Usually the guy just shows up, stepping into his workshop through a burning ring of fire. Tony grabs a screwdriver and settles back in his chair again, a small smile on his face. "Put him through." His boring night has just become more interesting. He flips the screwdriver into the air and catches it. "What's up, Doc?" He's been waiting forever to say that again.

"Stark. I apologize for bothering you. But I have a situation here that I believe requires your help."

Tony frowns. Strange is ignoring the chance to call him an idiot for his dumb Bugs Bunny reference and has regressed back to stuffy language. The guy must be stressed. "Oh, yeah? What kind of situation?"

"It's complicated. Basically, a dimensional tear has formed and crucial energy is being siphoned away. The drain is severe enough that I won't be able to close it using my primary sources of energy. I require an outside source to power the magic."

Tony nods to himself. The two of them had been toying around in the lab for the past few weeks, trying to see if his tech could play nice with Strange's magic. Tony had assumed nothing would come of it, but, apparently, they might have the chance to field test it tonight. "Like the arc reactor we've been working on."

"Exactly."

This should be interesting. "Fine. I wasn't doing anything anyway. Where are you?"

There's a beat of silence on the other end. "I... thought you were hosting a party tonight?"

"Yep. A party you declined to attend." Tony doesn't mean to sound bitter, but he's still a little hurt by the rejection. He'd thought the two of them had been getting along so well lately.

"My apologies. I already had plans for this evening and I couldn't change them."

"Like repairing a dimensional rift?" He knows he's prying now, but he doesn't care. He wants to know what was important enough to blow him off.

"Other plans. But this takes priority."

The mystery deepens... Tony taps his screwdriver against the desk. "I can skip the party. Scott and Nat have everything under control. They've got pumpkins. They've got candy. They've got my booze and my money. They don't need me. And, anyway, this sounds like more fun." He isn't going to admit that he just wants to spend more time with Stephen Strange. 

He’d come to enjoy Stephen’s semi-regular visits to the workshop at Avengers HQ. Tony had flirted with him, of course, because Tony Stark flirted with everyone. And he was curious to see how Strange would react. By flirting back, apparently. And he was _good_ at it, too. But Tony could tell it wasn’t serious. And now they'd reached a kind of quiet friendship, with Strange mostly just hanging around and watching him work. The guy didn't ask annoying questions, or get in his way. Sometimes he'd ask for clarification on what Tony was doing, or give him some playful snark. But mostly he was just... there. Tony found his quiet presence comforting. The workshop actually felt lonely now without him around.

"There's something else you should know. A small complication..."

"What's that?"

"I might not be entirely... _myself_ , by the time you get here."

"What does that mean?"

There's a long sigh on the other end of the line. Tony sits up straighter. This should be good.

"A few years ago, I made a bargain with a being from another dimension. A, uh... a demon." Another pause. "In exchange for his help with a certain situation I found myself in at the time, I agreed he could have use of my body for one night a year. And, unfortunately, tonight is the night I honor that agreement. From sundown on All Hallow's Eve until sunrise the next morning. So, as I said, I might not be entirely myself."

Tony grins. "Doc, are you trying to say that you sold your body to the devil? On Halloween?"

He can just hear Strange's put upon sigh over the connection. "Not _the_ devil, not even _a_ devil. Just a minor demon."

"Oh, that makes it so much better. How do you know you can trust this thing?"

"I just... He's a—a friend. We've... worked together in the past. And I've done this before and I... know I can trust him." 

Strange is stumbling over his words like a sloppy drunk, obviously flustered. Therefore, Tony concludes there must be some important aspect of this particular arrangement that Strange is not telling him.

"And he's already agreed to help us resolve this issue tonight," Strange adds.

Definitely a story there. Tony will have to get it out of him later. He flips the screwdriver back onto the desk, winces when it slides off the edge and clatters to the floor. "Okay. I'm on my way. _Wait_ , hold on... Why can't you just conjure up one of those magic portal-thingies for me? Beam me over?"

"As I said, the dimensional energy here is too unstable. It could be dangerous."

Unstable portal. Right. Not his thing. "Fine. I'll just fly." It's a nice night, anyway, and it's been so long since he's had an excuse to take the suit for a spin. "Where are you?"

"Salem, Massachusetts."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "What? Seriously?"

"Yes. Seriously." And there's that snarky tone he's been missing. 

"Salem, it is, then. I'll see you in an hour or so."

Never let it be said that Tony Stark isn't willing to get strange on Halloween.

 

***

 

Salem might be a busy tourist town on any other day, but tonight it's positively seething with Halloween enthusiasts. And pumpkins. And trick-or-treaters. And drunk people.

And demons, too, apparently.

Tony finds an out of the way place to land near the motel Strange gave him an address for, then sends the nanobots back into their housing. 

Halloween is actually one of the few nights of the year he can go out without getting harassed for autographs or selfies. He gets a few double-takes and long looks, and one guy across the street shouts at him, "Hey, Tony Stark! Awesome, bro!" Tony just grins and gives him a thumbs-up. 

The motel—imaginatively named the Salem Inn—is a bit of a throwback to a classic fifties drive up place. The room doors are all decorated with fall leaves and a pile of pumpkins spills over near the lobby entrance. All the parking spots are full, presumably with out of town guests who are also here for the Halloween festivities. And, at least, one Sorcerer. 

Tony steps up to a door, checks the room number one more time, and raises a hand to knock. But, before he can, the door is suddenly yanked open from under his fist to reveal Stephen Strange.

Tony's brain takes a few moments to catch up with what his eyes are telling him: Strange isn't wearing any clothes.

After a quick scan down—yep, definitely naked, damn nice body, too, blue symbols painted on his skin for some unknown reason—Tony keeps his eyes fixed on Strange's face. Strange's very uncharacteristically smiling face.

"Uhhh... nice Halloween costume, Doc. But don't you think it's a little chilly out?"

Strange's grin grows even wider and his eyes practically twinkle with glee. He looks Tony up and down as if seeing him for the first time. And maybe he is—this is definitely not the Stephen Strange he knows.

After the very thorough once-over, Strange says, "Oh, aren't you delicious," in a low purr that seems to vibrate right through Tony's insides. Sex incarnate.

Halloween night is already turning out a lot weirder than he thought it would be.

"I'm actually not terribly delicious. Just in case you meant that literally and not metaphorically. Mind if I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, Tony pushes his way through the gap in the door and slips past a still very naked and grinning Stephen Strange.

He glances quickly around the room, taking in the large pagan-ish circle on the floor—blue, looks like the same paint Strange is currently wearing. Guttering candles have been placed around the border. Strange's weird robes are folded neatly on a chair, and—most interesting—tiny white flowers are scattered all over the room. No signs of a struggle. Everything looks like it's been set out this way on purpose. 

The cloak is just floating serenely by the bed. It looks... _normal_. Although, Tony has no idea what he should be looking for exactly. He sidles up to the thing as casually as he can. "Your guy okay?" he asks, feeling like an idiot.

He can almost see the cloak trying to decide if he's worthy of a response, but then it gives him a curt little nod of the collar.

"Right," he says. If Strange's biggest fan thinks things are fine, Tony's going to go with that. 

He turns back around. Strange—or whoever this thing is—is still standing by the door, watching him. Still naked—that blue paint doesn't leave much to the imagination. It's a struggle to keep his eyes away from certain... areas. Tantalizing areas that probably deserve further scrutiny. Tony clears his throat. "So I take it the, uh, possession was a success."

"Yes, very much. We are one."

"Sounds cozy." Tony strolls over to the bed, picks up one of the flowers, just to keep himself busy. The cloying smell reminds him of nights spent on some tropical island. Clean white sheets, humid sea breezes, hands roaming over sun-warmed skin... He shakes his head.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Tony drops the flower back onto the bed, gives it a suspicious glare. "So, Strange is still in there with you?" Tony's not sure how any of this works.

"He is. But right now, my hands are on the wheel." Another grin. "So to speak."

"What should I call you?"

"Unfortunately, my true name cannot be spoken in your tongue. So, you may call me Stephen. It is, after all, my host's name."

"Stephen," Tony repeats, trying it out. The name feels odd on his tongue. He's never called Strange by his first name before, and maybe that's making him consider the other man in a different light.

Case in point: has he never really noticed before just how attractive Strange is? Of course he had, but Tony doesn't think that he's ever truly appreciated that fact until now.

The man has eyes that would be gorgeous on any face, but are too wide-set to be conventionally attractive. A sensual mouth that turns awkward when he smiles. Cheekbones that should be too severe, but somehow... _aren't_. White streaks in his hair that just don't jibe with the smooth skin of his face. Tall and thin, but not too thin—definitely an ass on him. And a neck that goes on for miles.

Tony Stark has an eye for good design, and the sum of those parts should not result in such a pleasing whole. And, yet, here was the proof: Stephen Strange. Standing in front of him. Gloriously naked and covered in blue paint. Tony's forced to throw everything he knows about engineering out the window and admit that it worked,  _by god it worked!_

He wanted the guy before, but it was a slow, easy sort of lust. Not this sudden punch the gut. Or balls. He wonders how much of his newfound attraction is to Strange or the creature currently residing in his body. "There is no Stephen, only Zuul," he murmurs.

Stephen glances over at him. 

"Sorry, Earth humor."

The demon, or Strange—or maybe both of them—gives Tony another sly smile, as if they know exactly what he's thinking. And they would be right, too. "Did you bring the energy source we talked about?" The guy manages to make even  _that_ sentence sound sexy.

This could be bad... Or very, very good. No, wait... very bad. His poor, lust-addled brain can't decide.

Strange is still waiting for him to say something, he realizes.

What were they talking about again? Oh, right—the arc reactor. Tony's hand curls protectively around the tiny device in his pocket. "Yessss... What, exactly, are we using it for? If you don't mind me asking?" He trusts Strange, of course. The man is practically the embodiment of 'do the right thing at all costs'. But, he can't be sure right now if Strange has been compromised.

"There is too little dimensional energy available to repair the rift. Therefore, I require an additional energy source to power the spell."

Sounds like the same thing Strange said over the phone. Of course, that could've been the demon impersonating Strange... Tony glances over at the cloak again to see what it thinks about this. It gives him another, rather impatient nod. Tony nods back. "Rug says it's fine. So let's do this."

"Follow me," Stephen says and strides toward the door.

"Uh, aren't you forgetting something?"

Stephen looks curiously around the room. "I don't think so."

"What about clothes?" Tony shrugs. "Just a suggestion. But humans usually wear them." Plus, then he could stop staring at that ass.

"Clothes," Stephen says slowly as if unsure what the word means. But then his face brightens. "Ah, yes. I know what those are. Here." He points to the neatly folded stack on the chair.

It takes demon-possessed Strange a long time to figure out how to put on his clothes. Tony's not sure he could do much better—that shit looks complicated. But he manages to get his long tunic on, leaving the front fastenings undone. He'd claimed the outer robes were too hot to wear. Tony has to point out that, " _Pants_. Pants are the most important part," and Stephen struggles into them. There's no sign of anything resembling underwear anywhere in the motel room, though Tony looks for them desperately—the cloak follows him around, totally not helping—because the thought of Stephen free-balling it out there is just too stimulating. Demon-Strange absolutely refuses to wear his shoes and Tony has to let that go, too. He's not willing to stoop to dad-like levels of nagging.

And then—sans shoes and undies, _but wearing pants!_ —they're finally ready to save the multiverse.

They slip out of the room and into the forest behind the motel, the cloak following along behind.

Stephen takes his hand and leads him through the trees, as light on his bare feet and silent on the ground as some forest creature, a low mist swirling up in his wake. Tony is forced to stumble along behind, tripping over logs and snagging every protruding part of his body on branches. He's not really used to all of this... nature.

He walks face first into what must be a monster spider web that Stephen somehow missed. How the fuck that's possible, he has no idea. And— _oh god!_ —where is the damn spider? He scrubs his hands over his hair. " _Shit_ , I—"

Stephen stops abruptly and Tony thumps into his back.

"Here," Stephen says in a low voice.

Tony's still frantically swiping at his face. "Is there a spider on me? Please tell me there's no spider."

Stephen gives him a half-glance over his shoulder. "There's no spider."

"Right. Try to make it sound more convincing next time." He flings the last bits of web off and spits on the ground for good measure just in case any got in his mouth.

Tony finally gets a look at where they are. Strange has brought them to a clearing in the trees. Another circle has been constructed on the ground here—much more impressive than the little one in the hotel room—containing a lot of complicated symbols that he can't decipher. But the lines are made of... salt? Tony's not at all tempted to taste it and find out. About five hundred candles around the circle and perched on stumps and logs. They all look to Tony like they came out of the Halloween bargain bin at some craft store. One near his foot even says 'boo!' on it.

Stephen makes a swift hand gesture next to him. There's a whoosh of air passing by him and all the candles flicker to life.

The effect of all of those candles glowing in the mist is both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. And he hadn't noticed before, but this place is cold. Colder than it should be. Further proof that energy is being siphoned off somehow. Tony can see his breath ghosting in the air in front of his face.

He shivers and rubs his hands over his arms. "This is appropriately spooky." He nods at the weirdo decorations. "Very festive. But if you were planning on sacrificing a virgin tonight, I'm afraid you're out of luck."

Stephen chuckles at his lame joke, and the sound makes Tony shiver again. This time, the cold has nothing to do with it. "Fortunately, no virgins are needed here tonight," he says and begins adjusting some of the candles along the edge of the circle. 

"Sooo..."

Stephen turns to look at him.

"What do you two normally do on Halloween? I mean, when you're not in the woods repairing a rift in the fabric of reality?"

"Oh, we have fun together."

"Fun, huh?" Is this guy going to be just as cagey as Strange? The most obvious answer, and the one his brain keeps insisting is right, doesn't make any sense. He just can't picture the man he knows ever allowing a horny demon take his body out for a spin. "Like, trick-or-treating?"

Stephen gives him a long, considering look. "We go out and find someone to have sex with."

Tony just manages to turn his choke into a cough. "Sorry—bug flew into my mouth," he croaks. _What the hell?_ "Wow. Okay, so... s _ex?_ That's what you come to this dimension for?"

"That's part of it. A mortal body is capable of certain... experiences that I am not able to partake in, when in my natural form."

"Mortal sex," Tony says, thinking _mortal sex in Stephen Strange's body. Or, better yet, with Stephen Strange's body._ And his brain really needs to shut up now.

Stephen smiles again and says, "As much as I would enjoy further... _discussions_ with you, Tony Stark..."—and there's that assessing gaze again, as if the demon is measuring him from head to toe—"I promised my host that I would help fix this problem. And, I believe, you promised him the same thing. Do you have the power source?"

"Of course."

"Pull it out. I want to see it."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Okay, I get it—you're a sex demon. But does everything you say have to sound so dirty?"

Stephen chuckles.

But Tony  _does_ pull it out. This arc reactor is one of his latest versions—small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, yet massively powerful. A major upgrade. And this particular model has been modified to respond to Strange's magic. "Here she is."

"I thought it would be bigger."

"You're not even trying now." And that sounded suspiciously like a joke Strange would make. Tony has to wonder again how much of the thing he's talking to right now is the man he knows.

"Place it in the center of the circle."

Tony steps carefully around the salt on the ground and puts the arc reactor in the center. 

Stephen nods. "Good. When I begin to close the dimensional rift, the creature will appear. I may need you to distract it while I continue the work."

" _Wait_... creature? What creature?"

"The creature that made this rift. It feeds on dimensional energy."

Tony shrugs. Wouldn't be Halloween without a fucking creature.

"Now... You may want to step back." 

Stephen floats up until he's hovering over the center of the circle.

Tony shuffles backward, trying not to stumble over the salt or the candles. "Um, you just... Don't you need your cape for that?"

Stephen ignores him. He gestures and makes a 'come hither' motion. Blue streaks of energy flow from the arc reactor and wrap around his arms, setting his pale skin aglow with an eerie light.

Tony paces back and forth along the outer edge of the circle while Stephen works. "So... how does your, uh, host feel about what you two do?" He's having trouble reconciling the Strange he knows with this guy who apparently goes out and fucks random people on Halloween.

"Oh, Stephen enjoys himself. He is quite experienced when it comes to sex. And I would never do anything that might harm him. Or force him to do anything he truly did not want to do. I'm not capable of that. This"—he stops to gesture down at his body—"is a partnership. We're connected, you see. And he's a friend. To violate his trust would be a betrayal of our friendship."

"Got it. So you both enjoy casual sex." Good to know... _So_ good to know.

Stephen winds and twists the threads of blue energy around his arms, almost like he's gathering yarn. Eventually, the arc reactor goes dark. Tony squints at it. That's never happened before in their lab tests—the guy must be pulling a hell of a lot of power right now.

"Be ready, now," Stephen says. "When I begin the repair, the creature will take notice of our presence. It will likely not be happy to see us."

"Great." Tony taps the nano housing on his chest and the nanobots swarm out, covering him in armor. 

Stephen throws his arms out and sends bolts of blue light arcing down into the edges of the circle. The lines of salt begin to glow and the candle flames gutter low and blue one by one. _Spooky_.

The empty air over the circle seems to ripple, like the still surface of a pond that's been disturbed. And then _something_ pushes its way through, spilling out onto the ground. Something big. Some kind of tentacle, with black and white stripes. The tip waves around in the air, almost like it's searching for something and then the thing abruptly whips out at Strange. The Sorcerer deftly floats up and out of its reach. 

"I could use some help," he says.

 _Oh shit._ Tony's been too busy staring. "I'm on it."

Meanwhile, a few more tentacles have pushed through the tear to join the first, and the whole mass is waving around, knocking over candles and generally making a mess. Tony raises his hand and blasts one. There's an ear-splitting shriek and the injured tentacle retreats back into the rift. Tony could swear the thing is whimpering.

"Please do not hurt the creature."

"Wait... why not?"

"It is merely an animal. And not at all dangerous when in its native dimension."

Now he feels like a dick. "Sure. Okay. Sorry about that. My bad." So, tentacle distraction, _not_ tentacle annihilation. He can do that.

The largest tentacle takes another swipe at Strange, so Tony grabs it. It's strong as hell—this thing must be all muscle—but his suit is stronger. He gets the thing in a tentacle-lock under his arm. "Uh, so... do you prefer women, or men, or both? Or none of the above?" he says casually, trying to avoid the tentacle smacking against his face. He feels vaguely guilty asking about this—he and Strange may have saved the world together a time or two, but they've never talked about something so personal. He's just so damn curious. And more than a little turned on. Anyway, he figures Strange owes him for helping out tonight. Quid pro quo.

Strange sends more fine threads of blue energy down, this time at the rip. He gestures and the threads begin to pull the edges of the rippling air together. "We find men and women equally alluring," he says. "However, men are easier to entice and I have little patience. We also both prefer to be the... receptive partner. So we most often end up with a man. My host has trouble letting go sometimes. He enjoys allowing someone else to take charge, in more ways than one. Letting someone else use us for their own pleasure. And both of us find being overwhelmed... exhilarating."

Tony narrowly dodges a tentacle that whips past his head. _Oh fuck_ , that's... damn hot. And he realizes he's probably just pushed this past the point of decency. No more sex talk, he decides. He ducks under another flailing tentacle and grabs up a group of three, tucks them in with the first one. They writhe and squirm in his arms like snakes. They're almost... _cute_ , in a disturbing sort of way. The black and white stripes are growing on him. "What the fuck do I do with these?"

"Put them in the hole."

" _Goddamn_ _you_ ," Tony mutters, shaking his head. _No_. Don't think about it... Something else, something safe... "Why Halloween? Why did you pick tonight?"

"A good night to cross the borders between worlds." He gestures at the rip in the air where more disgusting tentacles are protruding like the universe's grossest hernia. "Makes it much easier for me to reach this dimension and occupy this body, among other things."

Tony grabs up a couple more thrashing tentacles for good measure, drags all of them back to the hole and tries to shove them through. He imagines this must be a little like trying to stuff a bunch of eels into a pillowcase, if anyone were ever inclined to do something so stupid. Every time he manages to shove one back in, another flops out.

"C'mon, guys! Time to go home. _Get. The fuck. In there!_ " He gives one more shove and the writhing mass finally slips in. He has to press his whole body against the rift to keep them inside. "Stephen!"

Blue fire traces along the edges of the rip, drawing it closed and sealing it. An eerie silence descends on the forest around them.

Tony has to take a moment to catch his breath. Even with his suit, the tentacle wrangling was still a workout. "That was weird as fuck," he pants. "Is it fixed?"

Stephen lands softly on the ground in front of him. "Yes."

 _Damn_ , he looks incredible—wild, wind-blown hair, just the faintest traces of that spectral blue light still sparking across his skin, those intense eyes fixed on Tony. He knows exactly what Stephen is thinking. Because he's thinking it, too. And that post-fight adrenaline is making all of it so much harder to resist.

"I'm sorry that you'll have to wait another year to... see some action." _There_. He can be responsible, when he tries.

"Time does not work the same way in the place I come from. So I will not suffer a long wait for my next turn in this body. And, besides, this was fun. I like you."

Tony finds himself grinning. "I had fun, too. Beats my shitty Halloween party, anyway."

"A party, yes..." Stephen says slowly, and steps dangerously close. "Are you sure I can't tempt you, Tony Stark?" His long fingers come up to play at the edges of his tunic, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of that pale chest. "I can think of so many ways to give you pleasure. And I hear that you're a very... _inventive_ man... We could have so much more fun together."

Tony swallows hard. _Fuck_. He can't remember the last time he was so painfully, horribly turned on. He wants to throw Stephen down and just... _damn_ , he's not even sure if he wants to fuck him or _be_ fucked by him. Why not both? 

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath to steel himself. This is so wrong. And he could never take advantage of a friend like that. He knows what he has to do.

"You are hot as hell," he says. "And also, quite possibly, _from_ hell. But I will... have to decline that very generous offer because you're not your usual serious, stick-up-the-ass self right now. And I think tomorrow your host might have regrets."

Strange's sweet, lopsided smile is devastating. And all Tony can think of is thank god Strange doesn't smile at him like that all the time. He'd be lost.

"I'm not from hell." He shrugs slightly, and that sweet smile grows wicked. "Just a few dimensions to the left. And— _trust me_ —we both want this."

 _To the left of hell?_ That was another double-entendre, wasn't it? Tony narrows his eyes at the fey creature in front of him because he's just realized there was a very important bit of information buried in that last sentence.

"Both of you, huh?" His brain has gone into overdrive trying to process this revelation. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?"

"My host, as delightful as he is, has a certain... reticent nature. He's not the type to express how he feels without careful consideration." Another devastatingly sweet smile. "Perhaps, too much consideration. He cares for you. He cares... what you think of him. Very much."

"Oh," is all Tony can think to say to that. _Oh_. 

"Allow me to thank you, then. For your help tonight." Stephen gets even closer. Far too close. "With a simple kiss."

 _Oh fuck_ , _what_ —

Before Tony can react Stephen bows his head and presses those incredible lips against his.

And, then, it's only natural to part his lips and deepen the kiss, even though his brain is screaming at him, _wrong, wrong, wrong!_ Stephen's mouth is so soft and warm. He tastes exactly like those white flowers smelled: like warm skin, like salt, like sex. Tony moans—he can't help it—and Stephen's hand comes up to gently cradle the back of his head.

It's Tony who presses closer first, wrapping his arms around the man in front of him and forcing Stephen to take one stumbling step back. And the press of Stephen's hard cock against his belly—unmistakable even through the pants Tony forced him to wear—sends a jolt like electricity racing through him. Tony slides his hands down and grabs a handful of that amazing ass and pulls the man closer, pushes his thigh between those long legs.

Stephen makes a low noise that's practically subsonic and grinds against him. And— _oh fuck!_ —if that isn't the sexiest thing Tony's ever experienced, he's not sure what could be. He wants so badly to reach between them and slide his hand in and under until he's touching hot skin.

Stephen is now panting into his mouth, and Tony's not doing much better. He's going weak in the knees, something he'd always thought was just a bullshit cliche. But his knees are currently proving him wrong. The ache in his balls and the burning, desperate need inside him are making it hard to think about anything. The friction of Stephen's thigh against his poor, trapped erection is just barely scratching the surface of the deepest and most intense sexual itch he's ever felt, but he's so fucking on edge already, that it might be enough. 

He tightens his grip on Stephen's ass and just drags the other man up and down against his crotch. The burn is almost painful, but he's so fucking close. Just a little more and—

The insides of his eyelids suddenly flare red as the warmth of the sun hits his face.

Dawn. _Oh, shit_.

Before Tony can even gather his wits about him—because, _holy hell, that kiss!_ —Stephen is pushing away from him. Tony tries to hold on, but the other man twists out of his grasp.

" _Oh, gods_." One shaky hand comes up to press against his mouth as Stephen stumbles back, shock and panic on his face. "Tony, I'm... I..."

And maybe he should have been expecting it, but the ring of swirling sparks appearing in the air is his first hint that Stephen's about to bolt. Tony raises his hand, beseeching. "Hey... _don't_. Hey, Stephen! Please. Wait just—"

But Stephen has already stepped back through the portal, followed by his cloak. "I'm... I—I've got to go." He stops for just a moment and looks back. "I'm sorry, Tony." 

And then the circle of sparks closes, and Tony's left standing alone in the drifting mist.

"Wow," Tony says to himself. That went from 'fucking amazing' to 'fucked up' in record time.

 

***

 

Tony hates to admit it, but the Sanctum looks pretty great all dolled up in Halloween kitsch, like an elegant older woman wearing her finest antique jewelry. Elaborately carved pumpkins of all shapes and sizes perch on ledges, cold candle-wax drips artistically down the old stone walls. Tony can only imagine how she must have looked last night.

He steps up to front doors to knock, but they open before he even has a chance to lift his hand. Tony snorts and shakes his head. That trick is getting pretty old.

The grand foyer is dark and peaceful. Tony removes his sunglasses and steps inside. "Uh... hello?" 

"Over here." _Wong_. Tony wanders over to the little sitting area behind the staircase.

Wong looks comfortable on the sofa with his book—a cookbook, apparently—feet up on a tufted ottoman. There's a mug of something steaming on the table next to him. Probably tea. Also a few discarded chocolate wrappers. Looks like Wong had a fun Halloween night, too.

The cloak is floating behind the back of the sofa, looking innocent. If Tony didn't know any better, he'd say the thing was reading over Wong's shoulder. 

No signs of Stephen Strange. Tony stands there and checks one more time just to be sure, feeling like an idiot. Nope. Definitely no Strange.

He clears his throat. "Hey, Wong. Have you seen—"

Wong doesn't even bother to look up from his book. "He's hiding."

"Oh, that's... Maybe—"

"Somewhere in the Sanctum."

"Uh huh, yeah. I—"

"You'll find him. If you look."

Tony nods. Like any of this makes sense. "Right. Thanks for your help. No, no, don't get up! I'll just wander around the haunted mansion until I run into him. Or fall into an abyss." He pulls a doughnut out of the bag and takes a vicious bite, sprays crumbs all over Wong and his stupid cookbook. "You're not getting one of my doughnuts now, by the way."

One corner of Wong's mouth twitches up into something that might, if you squint hard, be considered a smile. Score one point for Tony Stark.

The first two floors of the Sanctum are empty of Stephen Strange. Tony's not sure how he knows this, but he has a feeling. A very normal, not-at-all-spooky feeling. "Stay out of my head, you sorry excuse for a funhouse," he grumbles. "This wallpaper is ugly, by the way." And why does he have the sudden, distinct impression that something is laughing at him?

The third floor, however, feels right. 

He wanders down an impossibly long, dark hallway that curves first left then right, and abruptly ends in a little alcove dominated by a huge metal urn. Tony sighs. "I hate this fucking place."

On his trip back down the hall, he pauses in front of an ornate wooden door. Which is odd because he can't remember seeing a door here before. But here it is, just waiting for someone to come along and open it. And, perhaps, find the person they were looking for behind it...

"I am _not_ thanking you," Tony mutters at the wall, "but... thanks."

Tony grabs the handle and unlatches the door, which slides open silently, almost of its own accord. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and steps inside. This is a cozy little room, Tony thinks—tapestries and assorted weavings on the walls, antique furniture scattered about—still just a bit too bohemian and cluttered for his tastes. A smooth and worn hardwood floor that gleams like honey. Windows high up letting in the golden, morning light.

Strange is in there, of course, cross-legged and floating about four feet off the ground in the center of the little room. Tony's getting pretty used to that. But what he's not used to is Strange wearing something other than his Jedi costume. This morning, he's in a gray tee and loose pants instead. He can't remember ever seeing the guy in casual clothes before. He looks so comfortable and soft and, quite frankly, alluring like this.

The other man is bowed forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His bare feet crossed at the ankle. Tony's just starting to think he might've caught Strange dozing off while levitating, but then those long fingers suddenly curl in his hair and tug. Tony's fingers itch to join them. 

Right. _Focus_. He came here to talk. Just to talk.

Strange still doesn't seem to be aware of Tony's presence, and this voyeurism thing is starting to get creepy, so Tony reaches up and taps once on the doorframe.

Strange shoots straight up in the air like he's been kicked.

Tony's worried for a second he's going to smash through one of the windows or flip over backwards, but Strange manages to recover. He floats down gently and makes a fairly graceful landing, feet silent on the floor.

 _Stephen_ , Tony reminds himself. He should think of him as Stephen. They _did_ get to first base last night, even if it wasn't technically with the right person.

"Hey, Doc," he says quietly, trying not to spook the guy any more than he already has.

Stephen eyes him warily before tipping his head in a stiff greeting. "Stark."  

Tony winces just slightly. Back to 'Stark' again, huh?

"I, uh, brought you some doughnuts." He shrugs and takes a few tentative steps into the room. "I figured you might be hungry after last night." Tony is certainly hungry after last night, but not for doughnuts.

He can see Stephen eye the bag longingly—the guy is always on the verge of a sugar crash and has an addiction to pastries—but then his gaze comes back to Tony's face and he smiles that awkward smile that makes Tony's heart beat too fast. "Thank you," he says.

Stephen still has faint smears of blue paint on his neck, peeking out from under the edge of the t-shirt. Tony wants to lick it off. Instead, he blurts out, "You didn't shower?" and then mentally kicks himself for saying something so stupid.

"No, I—I needed to meditate. I didn't..." Stephen trails off and the smile fades from his face. "Tony, I... I want to apologize for... for last night. For my behavior. It was completely inappropriate, the way I acted. The things I said... I thought I could control everything. And obviously I miscalculated. If you no longer feel comfortable working with me, I understand. I—"

Tony holds up his hand. "Okay, shut up." He steps forward and drops the bag on a little wooden, altar-y thing by the door. Hopefully, that's not a sacrilege. "Look, you don't... have to apologize. I don't need to hear that. And, more importantly, I don't _want_ to hear that. That's not why I'm here."  

"I thought...?" Stephen looks confused. "Then why are you here? What do you want?"

Tony shrugs. Time to just get it all out there. "I like you. And I want to get to know you better. I enjoy spending time with you. I've been... lonely lately, and just having someone around to talk to, someone who's been through what I've been through... That means a lot to me. And I think that you enjoy spending time with me. But I don't want to assume anything about this relationship that isn't there, so... I want to know... What do _you_ want? Just you. That's what I want to hear right now."

Stephen seems confused about the question. "I... I enjoy your company as well. I like spending time with you."

Tony nods. "Good. That's good." But he needs to know if Stephen is feeling what he's feeling. After last night... "I want... _more than that_." He leaves it just hanging, wondering if he's already said too much.

"More..." Stephen repeats. His face has gone carefully neutral.

"Yeah. So I want to know if you... also... want more." _Tell me you know what I mean_ , Tony thinks.

"What do I want?"

"Yeah." Is this a hard question? 

"I want... _Fuck_." Stephen closes his eyes and Tony can see his throat working as he swallows. "Oh, fuck," he says again.

Tony holds up his hands. "Hey, hey, just... whatever you say is fine. No pressure." He didn't come here to make the guy feel worse.

When Stephen speaks again, his voice is low and breathless, barely there. "I want... I want"—another hard swallow, and then the words just rush out like he can't stop them—"I want to get down on my knees. In front of you. And I want to suck your cock. Right here, in this"—he breaks off to open his eyes and look around—"room. I'm not even sure what this place is, I've never seen it before today, but... I want you to pull my hair and choke me with your cock and tell me how fucking good it feels. And I want to suck you down until you're begging me to finish you off." Stephen finally stops talking, breathing hard. He looks like he's surprised that just came out of his mouth.

_Holy shit._

"Oh, yeah?" Tony asks, almost casually, even though his heart is fucking racing in his chest. He takes one cautious step toward Stephen. His throat has already gone dry just imagining that filthy, beautiful mouth wrapped around his dick. And it's suddenly his turn to swallow hard before he can speak again. "Is—is that all?"

"No. I..." Stephen's eyes are wide and terrified and hungry at the same time. "I won't let you... finish in my mouth because... because I want you to fuck me."

" _Oh god yeah_ ," Tony breathes.

And with that shaky exhale, Stephen's confidence is suddenly back. He pushes away from the solid-looking table that, as far as Tony can tell, has just suddenly appeared in the room. Stephen lets his hand trail along the worn wooden edge as he stalks closer, eyes dark and focused only on Tony—the same predatory glint he remembers so well from last night. "I want you to bend me over this table and fuck me. Slow and deep. I want to feel everything. I want to feel you inside me, as deep as you can get."

 _Oh god!_ "Was there a table here before?" Tony whispers.

"No," Stephen says, "but there is now."

"Good. Yeah," Tony mutters, nodding. "Because we're going to need it." He says a silent thank you to the Sanctum. _God, he loves this place. He fucking loves magic._

"And then..." Stephen continues—

 _Fuck_. Tony doesn't know how much more of this he can handle. He's already so turned on—has been hard for what seems like hours now—there's the very real danger he might actually come in his pants like a teenager if Stephen keeps talking like this. And wouldn't that be a fucking tragedy?

"I'll want it harder. And faster. I want you to make me beg for it. I want you to make me come just from that, just from your cock inside me. And the sound of your voice."

" _Fuck_. I think we can probably accomplish at least eighty-five percent of that right here, right now. And the rest after a twenty—maybe thirty—minute break."

"But, first..."

Tony's not a young man anymore. He's not sure how much more of this he can take. "First?" he whispers.

"First. Let me thank you for your help last night." Stephen closes the distance between them. And his hands come up to rest on Tony's cheeks, the slightest faint tremble in those long fingers as they brush over his skin. "With a simple kiss."

Tony catches just a glimpse of the wicked smile on Stephen's face before those soft lips come down on his.

He tastes just like those white flowers smelled. Like warm, salty skin. Like sex.

And a little like Halloween candy.


End file.
